As Baltic passed Gabriel, who with a stunned expression stared at where Constantine lay struggling with the remains of the table, he paused. “He’s your problem now.”
“Like hell he is,” Gabriel said, his expression changing to one of sheer horror.
“You haven’t heard the last of me, Baltic,” Constantine warbled from underneath the broken table. “I’m not finished wooing Ysolde. Bloody hell, I think I broke something. You, Gideon, help me up. I lost my corporeal form for a second, and now I’m merged into the wood of this table. . . .”
Read on for an excerpt from
Katie MacAlister’s next Dark Ones novel,
Much Ado About Vampires
Coming from Signet in October 2011
Alec Darwin was dying, or as close to it as one could be without having that last little spark of life flitter away into nothingness.
He closed his eyes and lay back, shifting slightly when a rock dug into the small of his back. Should he go to the trouble of trying to remove it so he could lie for eternity in comfort? he wondered absently. Or was such a trivial thing worth the effort? Did he even have the strength to do it? It had been all he could do to stagger to the area, his final resting place, which the previous day he had cleared of small, pointed rocks.
He shifted his shoulder in mild irritation. The rock pressed into his kidney, the pain of it distracting him from his plan. Dammit. He hadn’t seen a rock when he had fallen to the ground, his strength draining from him as his body squeezed the last morsel of vigor from the remaining teaspoon or two of blood that slowly was absorbed into his dying flesh.
He was supposed to be cherishing his martyrdom as he lay dying in the Akasha, not thinking about a damned rock the size of a watermelon digging into his back. He was supposed to be thinking of the pathetic tragedy of a life that he had been forced to live, unenlivened with any sort of joy or happiness or even hope. He shouldn’t be wondering if he rolled over onto his side whether the damned rock would let him die in peace.
If only his Beloved hadn’t died. If only he’d come to her a few minutes earlier, he could have been there when that idiot reaper had lost control. If only he’d bedded her and Joined the minute he knew she was his Beloved, rather than allowing her to give in to her mortal sensibilities, demanding he court her.
A last breath passed his lips as he tried to hold on to the image of her face—his one true love, the woman who had been put on the earth to save him, and who had died the victim of a senseless accident that was also directly responsible for his impending death.
Awareness slid away from him, the rock ceased to be an annoyance, and the last few sparks between his brain cells provided not the image of his Beloved, as he so desperately wanted, but that of a woman who had lain in a faint at his feet a few months previously.
The dream started the way it always started.
“What do you see, Corazon?”
The voice that spoke so calmly was Barbara, the hypnotherapist whom Patsy had hired for our “Girl’s Night In” semiannual party.
“Mud. I see mud. Well, mud and grass and stuff like that. But mostly just mud.”
“Are you sure she’s under?” Patsy asked, her voice filled with suspicion. Pats was always a doubter. “She doesn’t look hypnotized to me. Cora! Can you hear me?”
“I’d have to be five miles away not to hear you. I’m hypnotized, you idiot, not deaf.” I glared at her. She glared at me glaring at her.
“Wait just one second. . . .” Patsy stopped glaring and pointed dramatically to where I lay prone on the couch. “You’re not supposed to hear me!”
“Is she supposed to know she’s hypnotized?”
That was Terri, the third member of our little trio of terror, as my ex-husband used to call us.
The bastard.
“Her knowing doesn’t negate the regression, does it?” Terri asked Barbara.
“Hypnotism isn’t a magical state of unknowing,” Barbara said calmly. “She is simply relaxed, in touch with her true inner spirit, and has opened up her mind to the many memories of lifetimes past. I assure you that she is properly hypnotized.”
“Let me get a pin and poke her with it,” Patsy said, bustling over to a bookcase crammed full of books and various other items. “If she reacts, we’ll know she’s faking it.”
“No one is poking me with anything!” I sat up, prepared to sprint to safety if she so much as came near me with anything pointy.
“Please, ladies.” I didn’t see Barbara show any signs of rushing, but I knew she wanted to hurry us along so she could leave. “We have limited time. Corazon is in a light trance, also referred to as an alpha state. Through that, she has tapped into her higher self, her true infinite being, a state in which she is free to bypass the boundaries of time.”
“Yeah. Bypassing all that stuff,” I said, lying back down on the couch. Even though it was a dream, and I knew it was a dream, my stomach started to tighten at what was to come. “So sit back and watch the show. What do I do now, Barbara?”
“Look around you. Examine your surroundings. Tell us what you see, what you feel.”
“I see mud. I feel mud. I am the mud.”
“There has to be more to her past life than mud, surely,” Terri said, munching on popcorn.
My stomach turned over. It is coming. He is coming. I felt it, felt the horror just on the edges of my consciousness.
“Are there any buildings or other structures around to give you an idea of what year you are reliving?” Barbara asked.
“Um . . . nothing on the left side other than forest. I seem to be standing on a dirt path of some sort. Let me walk to the top of this little hill—oh! Wow! There’s a town down below. And it looks like there’s a castle way up on a tall cliff in the distance. Lots of tiny people are running around in some fields outside of the town. Cool! It’s like a medieval village or something. Think I’ll go down to say hi.”
“Excellent,” Barbara said. “Now, tell me, how do you feel?”
Sick. Scared. Terrified.
“Well,” my voice said, not reflecting any of the dream emotions, “kind of hungry. No, really hungry. Kind of an intense hunger throbbing inside me. Oh, great, I’m a peasant, aren’t I? I’m a poor starving peasant who stands around in mud. Lovely.”
“We are not here to make judgments on our past selves,” Barbara said primly.
“Geesh, Cora,” Patsy said, sitting on my feet. “Terri turned out to be Cleopatra’s personal maid, and I was one of Caesar’s concubines. You’re letting down the team, babe. The least you could do is be a medieval princess in a big pointy hat or something.”
I couldn’t . . . because of him.
Loathing rippled through me as my voice continued. “I have shoes on. Peasants didn’t wear shoes, did they?”
“Some did, I’m sure,” Terri said, stuffing a handful of popcorn into her mouth.
“Can you walk to the town?” Barbara asked. “Perhaps we can find out who you are if we know where you are.”
“Yeah. I’m going down the hill now.”
A low rumble from behind me had me clutching the cushions of the couch. “Hey, watch where you’re—Oh my god. Oh my god! Omigod!”
“What? What’s happened?” Barbara asked, sounding suddenly worried.
She should.
“A woman with an ox cart just ran me over.”
“What?” Patsy shrieked.
“She ran me over. Her oxen were running amok or something. They just came barreling down the hill behind me and ran right over the top of me. Holy Swiss on rye! Now the oxen are trampling me, and the lady in the cart is screaming and—Jehosophat! My head just came off! It just came right off! Ack!”
I knew in my dream state that Terri sat staring at me, her eyes huge, a handful of popcorn frozen just beyond her mouth as she gawked at the words that came unbidden from my mouth.
If only she knew.
“Oh, my. I don’t—I’ve never had anyone die during a regression,” B
arbara said, sounding stressed. “I’m not quite sure how to proceed.”
“You’re . . . decapitated?” Patsy asked. “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure, Pats. My head is separated from my body, which is covered in ox hoofprints. A wheel went over my neck, I think. It . . . Urgh. That’s just really gross. Why the hell do I get the reincarnations where I’m killed by two oxen and a cart? Why can’t I be Cleopatra’s concubine?”
“Personal maid, not concubine,” Terri corrected, stuffing the popcorn into her mouth and chewing frantically. “Are you absolutely certain you’re dead? Maybe it looks worse than it is.”
Oh, it was going to get much, much worse, the dream part of my mind said.
Goose bumps rose on my arms.
“My head is three feet away from my body. I think that’s a pretty good indicator of death. Good god! Now what’s she doing?”
“The ox?” Patsy asked.
“No, the driver. She’s not doing what I think she’s doing, is she?”
“I don’t know,” Terri said, setting down the popcorn so she could scoot closer to me.
“This is very unusual,” Barbara muttered to herself.
“What’s the lady doing?” Patsy said, prodding my knee.
“She’s trying to stick my head back onto my body. Lady, that’s not going to do any good. No, you can’t tie it on, either. Ha. Told you so. Oh, don’t drop me in the mud! Sheesh! Like I wasn’t muddy enough? What a butterfingers. Now she’s chasing the oxen, who just bolted for a field. Oh, no, she’s coming back. Her arms are waving around like she’s yelling, only I can’t hear anything. It must be the shock of having my head severed by a cart wheel.”
“This is just too surreal,” Terri said. “Do you think she purposely ran you down?”
“I don’t think so. She seems kind of goofy. She just tripped over my leg and fell onto my head. Oh, man! I think she broke my nose! God Almighty, this is like some horrible Marx Brothers meets Leatherface sort of movie. Holy runaway oxen, Batman!”
“What?” Terri and Patsy asked at the same time.
“She’s doing something. Something weird.”
“Oh, my god—is she making love to your lifeless corpse?” Terri asked. “I saw a show on HBO about that!”
“No, she’s not molesting me. She’s standing above me waving her hands around and chanting or something. What the—She’s like—Hoo!”
He was coming. He was just out of my sight, just beyond the curve of the hill.
He was death.
“Don’t get upset,” Barbara said. “You are in no personal danger. Just describe what you’re seeing calmly and in detail.”
“I don’t know about you, but I consider a decapitation and barbecue as some sort of personal danger.”
“Barbecue?” Patsy asked. “Someone’s roasting a pig or something?”
“No. The ox lady waved her hands around and all of a sudden this silver light was there, all over my body, singeing it around the edges. Oh, great. Here comes someone.” No! my mind screamed. Not again! Please, god, not again! “Hey, you, mister—would you stop the lady from doing the light thing? She’s burnt off half of my hair.”
“This is the most bizarre thing I’ve ever heard,” Terri told Patsy. “You have the best parties!”
“It’s all in the planning,” Patsy said, prodding my knee again. “What’s going on now, Cora?”
“The guy just saw me. He did a little stagger to the side. I think it’s because the lady tried to hide my head behind her, and my ear flew off and landed at his feet. Now he’s picking it up. He’s yelling at her. She’s pointing to the oxen in the field, but he looks really pissed. Yeah, you tell her, mister. She has no right driving if she can’t handle her cows.”
My heart wept at what was coming.
“This would make a great film,” Patsy said thoughtfully. “I wonder if we could write a screenplay? We could make millions.”
“Well, now the guy has my head, and he’s shaking it at the lady, still yelling at her. Whoops. A chunk of hair came loose. My head is bouncing down the hill. Guy and lady are chasing it. Hee-hee-hee. OK, that’s really funny in a horrible sort of way. Ah. Good for you, sir. He caught me again, and now he’s taking me back to my body, hauling the ox lady with him. Whoa! Whoa, whoa, whoa!”
I struggled to get out of the dream, just as I struggled every time. It never did any good. The scene was determined to play out as it first had.
“Did he drop your head again?” Terri asked, her eyes wide.
Panic flooded me. “No, he just . . . Holy shit! I want out of here! Take me out of this dream or whatever it is! Wake me up!”
“Remain calm,” Barbara said in a soothing voice. “The images you see are in the past and cannot harm you now.”
“What’s going on? What did the guy do?” Terri asked.
“I want to wake up! Right now!” I said, clawing the couch to sit up.
“Very well. I’m going to count backward to one, and when I reach that number, you will awaken feeling refreshed and quite serene. Five, four, three, two, one. Welcome back, Corazon.”
“You OK?” Patsy asked as I gasped, my blood all but curdling at the memory of what I’d witnessed.
“Yeah. I think so.”
“What happened at the end?” Terri asked. “You looked scared to death.”
“You’d be scared, too, if you saw a vampire kill someone!”
I sat up in bed, torn from the dream at last, blinking as the dream memory faded and I realized I was safe in my own little apartment, alone, without the green-eyed, dark-haired monster who had killed a woman before my eyes.
I slumped back against the pillow, wondering why I kept dreaming about Patsy’s party and experiencing the awful past-life scene again and again. Why were the dreams increasing in frequency? Why I was doomed to relive the experience over and over again, the sense of dread and horror so great I could taste it on my tongue?
Sleep, I knew from sad experience, would be useless. I got to my feet and headed for the bathroom. I’d brush my teeth to get rid of the taste of my own fear, and go sit with a book until I was too numb with exhaustion to stay awake any longer.
And I’d pray that the green-eyed vampire stayed out of my dreams.
Also by Katie MacAlister
Paranormal Romances
IN THE COMPANY OF VAMPIRES, A Dark Ones Novel
CONFESSIONS OF A VAMPIRE’S GIRLFRIEND,
A Dark Ones Novel
LOVE IN THE TIME OF DRAGONS,
A Novel of the Light Dragons
STEAMED, A Steampunk Romance
CROUCHING VAMPIRE, HIDDEN FANG,
A Dark Ones Novel
ZEN AND THE ART OF VAMPIRES, A Dark Ones Novel
ME AND MY SHADOW, A Novel of the Silver Dragons
UP IN SMOKE, A Novel of the Silver Dragons
PLAYING WITH FIRE, A Novel of the Silver Dragons
HOLY SMOKES, An Aisling Grey, Guardian, Novel
LIGHT MY FIRE, An Aisling Grey, Guardian, Novel
FIRE ME UP, An Aisling Grey, Guardian, Novel
YOU SLAY ME, An Aisling Grey, Guardian, Novel
THE LAST OF THE RED-HOT VAMPIRES
EVEN VAMPIRES GET THE BLUES
Contemporary Romances
BLOW ME DOWN
HARD DAY’S KNIGHT
THE CORSET DIARIES
MEN IN KILTS
Table of Contents
Cover Page
Praise
Title Page
Table of Contents
Copyright Page
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourte
en
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Teaser chapter
Katie MacAlister, The Unbearable Lightness of Dragons
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